Loyalty and Betrayal
by SarcasticComment
Summary: War shapes children and it can break them. The Freedom Fighters know this all too well, it means changing where their loyalties lie. A story in three parts. Rated for violence and language.
1. Before

It was those three months when he was all alone that changed everything. After his world went up in flames and reality was pulled from under his feet, and he was just an orphan with a chip on his shoulder who was afraid of the Fire Nation. He wandered hopeless and lost and a distinct feeling of death lurked over him; it was the emptiness in his belly and the yellow eyes that seemed to lurk in the darkness. As winter approached, the Fire Nation seemed to become less and less of a threat even as starvation became more and more real.

So, when he saw small plumes of flames a quarter of a mile away and didn't detect the smell of burning flesh or the screams of frightened women and lost children and dying men he went towards it instead of away.

The boy he found was slim and tall with hollow cheekbones and grey eyes that spoke of hunger and loneliness, just like his did. He sat in front of his small fire rotating small pieces of what looked like rabbitsquirrel on a charred stick. Soot streaked his face and his lips were so cracked they bled. Winter hadn't hit with full force yet, but the days were getting shorter and the air colder. The boy's pants were torn displaying his pale skin.

"Can-can, I have some?" Jet asked tentatively pointing at the meat roasting over the spurting fire. The boy had heard him, no doubt, Jet hadn't been quiet when approaching, but the other boy hadn't really paid him any mind, but now he stared at him his eyes sharp, precise and burning into Jet's soul.

He rose from his squat and walked over to Jet pressing the skewer of meat into Jet's hand. Jet had never smiled so much. He shoved it into his mouth and didn't care that it was charred and sort of gritty tasting. Only after receiving a small morsel did his stomach decide that it was appropriate to growl fiercely for more food. "More?" he pleaded eyes wide. The other boy handed him another stick and this time Jet savored the small piece of food. The boy moved back to the fire and ate his own smoked meat.

The next morning they set out together in some sort of unspoken agreement. Jet's new companion did everything quietly: walking, breathing, and he had yet to talk. But Jet had gotten used to the silence in the past months and it didn't bother him. In the next week the other boy had shown him how to track game, it was all patience, and eating only once a day was to be expected. The boy had an affinity for his bow and his aim was true; killing the animals didn't prove to be a problem but skinning and gutting them took a long time. Jet wanted to help but he was incompetent in regards to survival. But although the other boy didn't really acknowledge Jet, but he didn't ignore him either. It took him almost two weeks before he noticed that the boy wasn't hunting to survive, but rather collecting most of the meat that he or Jet didn't eat and salting and storing it. He was hunting for his family. For some reason Jet felt betrayed, he thought that this boy had lost everything too, he thought they were similar because they had both lost. But he stayed anyway because he couldn't shoot a bow and arrow, he didn't have one to begin with and he would _never_ steal the other boy's, it was a taboo, the boy's bow was like another limb.

He realized they were moving steadily east, a trick he learned from the moss that grew on trees (and the way the other boy would stop to examine it sometimes, but Jet wanted to believe he figured it out by himself). Then one day, a little past noon, the trees opened up to a clearing and the other boy stopped dead in his tracks, causing Jet to walk straight into him, but the boy didn't even flinch.

Jet looked at the pile of ash, charred wood, and suddenly the rancid smell of charred _everything_ hit him. they hadn't smelled it before, they had been walking downwind.

"Those BASTARDS!" Jet said in an angry whisper, his eyes were wide and suddenly the anger he had suppressed from the months before came crashing back. They would pay, Jet was sure of it.

A sound like a drowning cat was emitted in front of him. The boy dropped to his knees fingers clenching in the dirt, he said nothing coherent, but the gross wheezing sounds that he made deep in his throat told Jet all he needed to know.

Jet let the other boy mourn for more than an hour, before forcefully dragging him away from what used to be his town, his home, staying here would only make things worse. Wallowing in regret and self-loathing weren't good for young boys, and Jet didn't want to stay here any longer, it was depressing and it reminded Jet of his own home, he didn't want to think of that.

Once they were far away from the remains of the village (an entire village!) the other boy had grown silent, his back in the direction of his old home. As night fell the boy remained in the same position, head resting on his knees, he moved not a millimeter and soon Jet just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

Jet was awoken with a start the next morning the sun shining brightly in his face. The other boy was already up leaning against a tree eyes closed, but Jet knew he was awake because of the way he drummed his fingers over the ground.

"Uh, hey are you okay?" Jet asked tentatively, it felt awkward, he had never made small talk with the other boy, he didn't even know his name. The boy rose and opened his eyes but didn't look at Jet. He simply slung his quiver over his back and started walking, Jet ran after him.

"No really are you okay?" Jet asked walking briskly at his side. The boy shook his head once and stopped walking. Jet stopped with him and looked ahead, neither of them had any direction now, Jet realized. Jet would have to make one. He started walking and the other boy followed.

They found her a few hours later.

Jet had followed the sound of running water, it didn't take a master tracker to do that. When they found her she was crouching on rock on the opposite bank with some sort of makeshift spear in hand. She was perfectly still, poised above the water. She stayed in the same position for several minutes eyes glued to the bubbling stream. It was like a strange slap in the face when she struck, leaping forward with her body, creating a large splash with her spear. Jet had known she was a living breathing person, but that didn't stop him from thinking that the girl would remain frozen forever, like some sort of ethereal statue.

A small fish was pierced on her spear, which was really just a knife bound with wrappings to a larger stick. She delicately removes the fish from the spearhead, precious as it is, and sets it on a flat rock where the sun shines brighter. Jet makes a face as she licks the blood off her fingers and takes up her stance over the water again.

"Hey!" Jet calls out to her, no longer curious about her actions. She falls into the water. Jet is ankle deep in the water in a second, she splashes wildly for a moment before falling under the water. When the girl doesn't surface immediately Jet wades deeper into the water and hoists the girl up for air. She gasps for air and Jet hoists her back onto the river bank. His hands hover over her his brain not yet processing he had just saved this girl, who is shivering violently and smacking Jet's curious hands away from her body.

When her breath has steadied, she takes off her dress of unknown color, relaying on her body heat alone to warm her up. The soaked garment would have only made her colder. It was only after seeing her like this, naked and rubbing her arms, that Jet realized how young she was, she was probably only six or seven. He turned when he heard his companion rustling in the undergrowth. He appeared a minute later carrying small sticks and dried leaves.

"Good idea," Jet said then went in the direction of the trees to help gather kindling.

When he came back, there was already a small fire going, and the little girl was as close as she could get to it without burning herself. Her dress was spread out next to the fire as well, in an effort to get it dry. The boy was sitting beside the girl rubbing her back up and down while watching the flames. Jet for the first time in his life was grateful for the flickering flames. As Jet set the twigs and branches near the fire for easy accessibility the girl spoke up,

"Ya know, most of the time I hate fire, but this is really nice," she said absently tilting her head to examine the flames.

"Yeah, I guess, The Fire Nation kinda ruined any beauty fire might have possessed." Jet said with a scowl, "I'm gonna make them pay for the way they make everything burn," Jet mumbled sourly, glaring at the fire.

"Would'd they do to you?" The girl asked perking up.

"They raided my farm and burned my house, killed my parents," he answered looking away from her.

"My pa went off to fight in the war, he never sent word, never came back, I'm not sure he's even alive anymore, but my ma got all depressed. She stopped making the pots we sold to make money so we couldn't pay the taxes so the soldiers hung her to set an example and I ran away," The girl said all in one breath, she let out a long sigh after she told her story, then she started fiddling with her thumbs, scraping out dirt from beneath her nails.

"My name's Smellerbee, by the way," She said after a moment.

"I'm Jet, but 'Smellerbee'?"

"It's what my grandfather called me when I was little, he was a bit deranged," she said with a smile, her sad past no longer affecting her. Jet nodded in understanding.

"And his name," he said gesturing to the other boy before sheepishly scratching his head, "well, actually, I don't know it, he doesn't talk much,"

Smellerbee turned slightly to face the other boy, he had stopped rubbing circles in her back when Jet sat down, and she scrutinized his face.

"You don't really mind what we call you right?" she asked. He replied with the tiniest shrug. "Hm, names are important so we need to pick a good one, something easy to remember…" she trailed off and looked at the clouds passing overhead. They all sat in silence for awhile as Jet occasionally added wood to their fire. Smellerbee seemed to be thinking of what to call the third member of their party very intently, seeing as she was going to take her time the other boy had gathered some more wood and began to whittle them for arrow shafts.

"Oh, you shoot?" Smellerbee asked as he started started adding fletching to the base of the arrows. he nodded without looking up from his work. "Can you show me?" He paused in his work for a moment before nodding and rising. Taking a bow and a single arrow from his pack, he pointed to the tree he was aiming at, about fifty meters from where they stood. He drew back the sinew string and let the arrow fly with a 'twang'. It struck his targeted tree with force.

"Wow!" Smellerbee exclaimed, "that was a long shot! I'm gonna call you that now. Longshot,"

The newly dubbed Longshot looked at Smellerbee with wonder written across his face. A small incline of his head showed his thanks.

"Longshot it is,"

Smellerbee smiled.

"Yeah I like it,"

Jet thought briefly if he had actually seen Longshot blush.

...

They set out the next morning in no particular direction, together. Jet thought it rather odd that they let him lead the way, but accepted in none the less, he liked being in charge. They spent a lot of the next few days together just wandering. Smellerbee knew a lot about the plants that grew in the forest, so they spent a lot of their time collecting lychee nuts, it was easier than hunting or fishing.

They wandered for the next three weeks before the first snow came, the winter was lighter that year, but that didn't make it any less cold. They held up in a cave for nearly a month and a half, Jet was eternally grateful for Longshot's salted meats. He came to the conclusion that this was the purpose of hording the food all along; for after the initial incident of the destruction of his town Longshot had not seemed melancholy nor angry.

They told stories around their fire, silly things about distant Avatars and silly earth kings and pirates that went on grand adventures. They also talked about ways to get back at the Fire Nation. Jet became determined, he would be a better fighter than any of the men who rode on rhinos, better than a firebender, better than the fire _lord._ After a Fire Nation supply caravan had come dangerously close to their cave they decided to build a treehouse to live in. Up in the big red trees were they wouldn't be found.

Jet was overjoyed when spring finally blossomed. The cave had started to get cramped and he was very glad to get out of it and roam in the forest once again. Jet's aspirations about becoming a fighter to take down the Fire Nation were blessed with the finding of Sho Li, or as he had been dubbed by Smellerbee, Sneers, for his permanent facial position. His dad had been a captain in the Earth Kingdom Army, and had taught Sneers quite a few tricks about fighting and strategy in the hopes that his son would follow in his footsteps. His father had been captured as a prisoner of war and hadn't been heard from in months; he was presumed dead. Sneers was proficient in hand-to-hand combat which he said his dad hadn't taught him, he learned it from fighting off Fire Nation goons who wanted to touch his sisters. Of course it didn't matter now, his sisters had been shipped of to coal mines, while Sneers had been beaten within an inch of his life.

Jet and Sneers practiced together for several hours a day and Jet was a quick study. Soon he and Sneers were evenly matched despite Sneers' larger girth. Smellerbee always wanted to join in, but Sneers protested such actions saying she was too young. The only reason Smellerbee didn't beat his ass, hand-to-hand knowledge or not, was the promise that he would teach her when she was eight, and therefore strong enough to not be seriously injured from simple sparring. She sulked for a while but took to hanging around Longshot and engaged him in seemingly one sided conversations. Longshot had displayed no talent for hand-to-hand combat and had stubbornly refused to learn, favoring shooting practice.

Smellerbee had an odd gift in that she could figure out what Longshot was thinking most of the time. Jet understood his simpler gestures, but Smellerbee seemed to connect with him on a deeper level, Jet just associated it with them being best friends and left it at that. He had sparring he needed to perfect, he didn't have time to learn about his comrades' strange telepathy.

They got lucky again when they met Pipsqueak, named by Sneers who had a strange sense of irony, because even at thirteen years old (the eldest of the group, followed by Jet) he was a big kid; about the height of Sneers and Smellerbee if you stacked them on top of each other, and still growing. His town had been raided by Fire Nation troops, killing many in the process, including Pipsqueak's father who had been the town's carpenter. They shared their idea of building a treehouse or maybe even a treehouse fort to hide from the Fire Nation and plot their revenge from.

Pipsqueak loved the idea and was quick to plan a design. Soon enough the project was underway. It took them the better part of the next two weeks to build the first building. They hadn't taken into account the effort it took to lug pieces of wood up into the trees and they were all sad that they didn't have nails so they had to fit the wood together the best they could by cutting it like puzzle pieces. The space wasn't large and they had to practically sleep on top of each other to fit all five of them. But they all felt the sense of accomplishment and began the second platform almost immediately.

Jet didn't really know how he came to be the leader of his motley crew of misfits, but it became that they always asked his opinion of plans to build or go and scavenge for nuts and berries. And soon it became that he gave them orders on what needed to be done. It was Jet who started the sentry cycle of who would look out for the Fire Nation. It was Jet who found and welcomed other orphans into their treetop citadel and taught them how to hunt and fight so that by the time winter came again they numbered ten and had four treehouses.

But then winter struck again with much more force than the previous year. The wind was bitter and snow fell constantly so that it piled in large drifts sometimes over three feet deep. Most days all ten of them crowded into the same hut, the press of bodies keeping them warm. Long days trapped inside prevented them from finding food and Jet once again encountered the empty foreboding feeling of hunger.

It was after a blizzard that Smellerbee insisted she and Longshot go hunting, as the group's best hunters. They had a long fight, the whole time Jet remained steady in his belief that they would leave and not come back they weren't so hungry that they could afford to lose Smellerbee and Longshot. In the end Smellerbee had relented, it had ended in a battle of wills, and Jet had only just been slightly more stubborn.

The next day one of the younger members, Tiger, who was only five became ill, coughing and wheezing. Jet had sent off Smellerbee and Longshot, they needed food, no matter the risk. One of his wasn't going to die.

They were gone for three days, but when they returned they had enough food to last for the rest of the winter. And if they stood closer together and if Smellerbee went to Longshot before Jet, than Jet chose to overlook it; the food was more important. Tiger got better slowly, he still had violent coughing fits even years later, but he recovered and no one died of hunger.

It was after the horrible winter when spring finally sprung and new scarlet leaves appeared on the trees when Jet planned his first attack on the Fire Nation.

It was a small group of soldiers, five of them. It was likely they were a group of scouts for a larger band of men, but they were Fire Nation and they needed to suffer. The plan was simple, they would scout the soldiers from the trees and and then ambush them. They stayed perched in the trees for several minutes after the soldiers had entered the clearing, Jet had wanted to wait till the soldiers were least expecting it before attacking.

Jet had lept from the tree and once his feet were firm on the ground he threw a punch at the closest soldier hitting him in the throat under his helmet. The soldier stumbled back from the shock of the strike. But Jet didn't wait for the man to draw a weapon or ready his fire, he struck again, in the same place before snaking a leg behind his knees and tripping him. The Fire Nation soldier fell backward and Jet took the opportunity to leap on him. He took the man's head in his hand and slammed his head into the ground beneath him the other hand firmly on the other man's chest to keep him in place. He continued the action until the man's hands stopped clawing and struggling beneath him. He rose from where he knelt on the ground and kicked the unconscious man for good measure.

When he looked up at his friends he noticed that the other four soldiers were taken care of. Two of them looked like their heads had been bashed in by Pipsqueak's big fists, another beaten to a pulp like the man Jet had taken down, and his friends were surrounding the last man, taken down with two arrows in his armor.

"He's dead," Sneers said simply looking down at what had once been a living breathing human. Jet looked to Longshot whose eyes were wide and and skin just slightly paler than usual.

"See if any of them have something worth taking, we don't want to encounter any more soldiers, so we have to move quick," Jet said reaching down and taking a knife out of the boot of the soldier he had beaten to oblivion.

"Maybe you didn't hear Sneers, he's _dead,_ Longshot _killed_ him!" Longshot flinched as Smellerbee yelled at Jet, "this isn't what we meant to do! How are we better than them if we if we kill just like the Fire Nation?"

"Because we aren't killing innocent people Smellerbee! It's an eye for an eye and these men are killers! We're just evening the odds!" They were all silent after Jet's exclamation. "Here, I'll show you!" And Jet took the knife he had acquired and and leaned over the man he had gotten it from. He took off the man's helmet and sucked in a breath.

He was young, maybe only seventeen and his dark topknot had gotten loose, small pieces of hair hanging in front of his pale face. His hand shook as he lowered the knife to the side of the man-boy's-neck. He took another deep breath and put pressure on the blade, quickly he dragged it over the boy's jugular. Blood gushed from the cut too quickly for him to pull his hands away; it dripped from his fingertips.

He had blood on his hands now.

They leave the scene right after that, leaving the other three men alive, they had gotten their message across, their bloodlust had been sedated, and they didn't want to stay there anymore. They practically ran from the scene of the crime, Longshot hadn't even collected his arrows. Jet had dropped the small knife near its former owner's still warm corpse.

They don't eat together that night. Jet's not sure if Longshot eats at all, Jet doesn't. He knows he'd just throw it up. He has nightmares again that night, ones he hadn't had since those three months he was alone. He wakes up with images of his burning house and red blood on pale skin imprinted in his retina. He scrambles out of his sleeping mat and leaves his hut running away from the bad dreams. He goes to where Longshot sleeps with Sneers and Rolf because he needs to talk to someone, someone who will listen.

Sneers was snoring loud enough to be heard in the northern water tribe, and Rolf was buried under his blankets trying to ignore the loud noise. Longshot wasn't there.

He leaves as quietly as he can, looking around for the silent archer, trying to find him with only the light of a waxing moon. He thought he heard a voice only to have it muffled by the screech of a catowl. When the animal quieted he heard the quiet voices, voice?, again. He moved towards the sound, and when it was closest he looked up. Perched on a thick branch, about twenty meters above him, was Smellerbee and Longshot.

"-he doesn't understand. I just think that he's trying to do what's best for you and me and everyone else. He was just being angry...and rash. I mean _you_ weren't trying to kill him. But this had to happen eventually, to someone, Jet knows what he's doing, we have to trust his judgement. He's a good leader." Jet heard Smellerbee say.

"..."

"I mean I don't think Jet wants to kill anyone. I wanna get back at the Fire Nation too, and he's right this is the best way to do it, and if I'm wrong he can come up here and tell us," Smellerbee said calling him out on his eavesdropping. He scaled the branches above him to reach where they were already perched, only a little mad that he had been caught.

He coughed awkwardly for a moment not wanting to make eye contact with either of his companions.

"I'm sorry, about what I said," Jet finally mumbled still not looking at either of them, but being sincere. "we can raid Fire Nation camps without killing anyone, drain their supplies and make this forest uncrossable, we'll protect the people here too. And," Jet swallowed, "I want you guys to stay here, with me, make it so that the Fire Nation fears freedom fighters like us." Smellerbee smiled and gave a small laugh, she cast a quick glance to Longshot before saying,

"We aren't going anywhere. We'll fight with you till the end, Jet,"

They didn't raid another Fire Nation for another few months, often there were simply too many men for them to ambush, six able-bodied children against thirty soldiers were odds Jet didn't like and didn't want to risk. so he didn't. But the men moving through the forest now weren't trained soldiers (well, Jet was pretty sure so) they were transporting food south, towards Omashu, which the Fire Nation was always trying to reach.

Jet whistled once, the tune of a bird that did not live in this forest, but something no Fire Nation soldier would know. It was the signal to attack.

A rustle of leaves was the only warning of the impending attack. Then, they were attacking the the Fire Nation once more. This fight was different. The first time it had been full of adrenaline, and if Jet had admitted it to himself, he had been nervous, he was focused now, he knew exactly where to punch to get a clean knockout. The scuffle was over quick, Jet had been right about these men not being trained soldiers.

"Wow, they have a lot of food, we might not have to do any hunting for weeks!" Pipsqueak exclaimed as he inspected the wagons the men were moving. Sneers tied the hands of the unconscious men, none had been killed, before helping to gather the goods with Pipsqueak. Smellerbee and Rolf were looking in the second wagon.

"Hey, they got a lotta weapons and armor in here!" Smellerbee called, dragging a crate of clinking metal out to prove her point. Jet flocked to where Rolf sorted through the spears and swords, rugged knives and metal chest plates.

Sneers rushed over after Smellerbee dumped the contents of the crate on the ground,

"Don't you know anything! That's no way to treat weapons! They need to be handled carefully! With reverence!"

"Get that stick out of your ass, they're fine!" Smellerbee retaliated. Jet laughed at the scandalized look on Sneers face. Then, he peered down at the pile of swords on the ground.

"It's good we got these instead of the Fire Nation, probably saved someone's life," Jet commented, picking up a strange sword that was slim and hooked at the end. The handle was long and didn't quite fit comfortably in his hand, but it was elegant, sharp, and when he swung it, his body felt powerful, coiling and bursting with energy.

"Oh, that's nice. In good shape too. You rarely see a Tiger sword like that, where's the other?" Sneers commented looking away from where he was picking his nails with a small dagger.

"Huh?" Jet answered out of his stupor, the weapon was mesmerizing, and now it was his.

"It's half of a set of dual swords. Where's the other one?" Sneers clarified. Jet scanned the pile quickly, it wasn't difficult to find the other blade, as it was not far from its sister. He held both of the swords firmly, holding them vertical, and away from his body, so as to not stab himself with the diamond-shaped pommel. Jet smiled.

Training with the blades was gruelling. He had no one to teach him, no old and wise swordsman, nor a blunt but loving father. He had to tell himself how to swing the blades how to slash and strike to incapacitate or kill a man. He wanted to spar against someone other than the trees or his own imagined foes, but these blades were not playthings, no one had to teach him that, and he couldn't risk fighting with his friends without the risk of hurting them or himself. So, he practiced combinations by himself, going through motions and cutting through dozens, hundreds of heartless Fire Nation Soldiers.

The next time they went on a raid Jet used the the twin-hooked blades fighting enemies like this gave him a sense of confidence and safety, have more protection than one's fists was always an advantage. He was able to take down three soldiers all by himself and he didn't have to kill any of them. His sense of pride swelled, the Fire Nation was getting what was coming to them. By a couple of kids! Ozai wouldn't know what hit him. He ran through the trees with his Freedom Fighters, his friends, and laughed, it was the best time of his life.

That summer was filled with laughs and sticky hotness and the warmth and light that only truly came with the onset of summer. For the first time since his parents had died and his old life had been stripped away from him, did Jet feel that sense of belonging and companionship that had been so natural in his childhood. And, like in his childhood, his kids followed him around like the village kids had done back in the foggy memories of his past, leading them in games of Benders, or Badgermole.

Summer hangs on for a long time that year, and orphans from nearby and faraway towns swarm in, and while this is a sign of increasing Fire Nation activity, Jet loves consoling these kids and giving them a good home and a fresh start.

The winter that year is the lightest it has been in years, it snows, but it's the wet mushy kind that melts easily, and it's no time at all till spring blooms. And with Spring comes the need to coach the new kids in ways of fighting and Freedom Fighter culture. They have already have a hatred of the Fire Nation instilled in them, and many are eager to take up arms against them.

It's a lot harder to teach when there are so many more people, they number just over twenty and they have to make all the kids battle ready. It's even harder when the only people able to teach are Sneers and himself. Pipsqueak relays on brute strength that none of the other children have, Smellerbee is really impatient with most of the younger kids, and her fighting style is clumsy, slashing and darting, in a way that confuses battle trained soldiers, but is not advisable. Longshot can't teach for some obvious reasons, and most of the kids are confused and weary of him to begin with.

But Jet gains satisfaction from teaching these kids how to jump fearlessly from treetops into a perfect roll and where to punch and kick and with how much force. He thinks this is how his dad must have felt when he taught Jet to plow the field and weed the garden. Jet likes the idea of being a dad, it means being a mentor, and someone these kids can look up to, it gives Jet something to aspire to become, a leader. He's glad to fill the role.

Jet tries not to play favorites, but it's hard. Smellerbee was on to something when she said that some of the kids were annoying. Most of the younger ones whined, used to the luxuries of their homes, and cried when they missed their parents (didn't they get it they all missed their parents! sheesh), but Jet was as patient as he could be when Pansy cried _again_ because her feet had blisters.

So, yeah, Jet had favorites. He liked the kids who accumulated bruises like leaves in their hair, the ones who brought something to the table, who always tried their best even if it wasn't much. And he always felt a bond with the original Freedom Fighters, they had stuck by him the longest and they were his closest friends, linked together in a way that the kids from his village and their new recruits weren't.

He laughs when Pipsqueak sticks lychee nuts up his nose to make the others kids happy, and when Smellerbee punches Longshot in the arm hard enough to leave a narly black and blue bruise that he would never dare complain about. He forms a camaraderie with his 'core group' as he calls them in his head that is absent with the other kids, he's their leader; with the core he's their leader and their friend and Jet thinks that's what makes the difference.

He's enjoying his dinner and a story that's a bit too dirty for ten year old Smellerbee to be telling when Sunny and Tiger run up to him, panting.

"Jet! Jet!" Sunny yells as she yanks the sleeve of his arm, "The Fire Nation! Probably a whole Brigade were marching towards the town! I saw more than two dozen soldiers and there were officers as well!"

Jet felt that familiar boil in his blood, "Which town?" he asked Tiger since Sunny was nearly hysterical.

"Gaigpan! They were marching toward the Old Dam to cross where the river wasn't deep or wide!" He cried with equal hysteria to Sunny.

And as a result the rest of his Freedom Fighters who were eating dinner on their meal platform were muttering nervously.

"Everyone relax!" Jet said in a booming voice that he tried very hard not to make roar. All muttering stopped. "This may be a good thing for us! It means more Fire Nation troops will cross our forest, and more Fire Nation troops that will be taken down!"

A roar erupted on the platform. And as it died down Jet continued, "And one day we'll get all those ash-makers out of Gaigpan!" Another roar. Jet smiled as his Freedom Fighters talked anxiously among themselves.

"But Jet shouldn't we attack them now? Before they reach the town?" Tiger asked worriedly.

"No," Jet shook his head, "we would be badly outnumbered and I'm not willing to let any of my kids get hurt, it's not a risk we can take, but we'll harass them as much as we can. The Fire Nation should know better than to waltz into earth Kingdom territory without retribution. Hey! Smellerbee, Longshot, go check out the dam, I want exact numbers of men and supplies."

Longshot nodded and Smellerbee gave a mock salute before they disappeared into the trees.

"Okay everyone,"Jet announced as he stood up, "Dinner's over. I want Hut two on look out tonight." Everyone shuffled out, some of the kids from hut two grumbling about staying up again. Jet followed them out, the last in line, and made sure they were all in their respective sleeping places before trudging over to his own platform.

He laid on his straw mattress, and looked up at the red top of his tent. _Red, like everything else._ He rolled over, but sleep wouldn't come. _How dare they come to this foreset. To that town of innocent people. How many more kids do they need to make orphans? How many more lives do they need to destroy._ Eventually he fell into a fidgety sleep.

He dreamt of an endless row of soldiers, marching towards an unknown destination. Their eyes red.

Then there was Tiger, coughing up blood and collapsing while Jet's hands were bound.

Pipsqueak wrestling a man of enormous girth, and being pinned down.

His kids so full of life, turning grey "Won't you help us Jet? Why won't you help us?"

Sneers, being mercilessly beat, punch after punch, kick after kick until he was still.

Longshot, with an arrow in his back, one with red feathers, his mouth open, emitting an unholy, completely bizarre scream.

Then Smellerbee, her body slowly being consumed by flames, "Jet! Jet! Help me! Jet."

He flailed out, his hand flying through the air as if to catch her, but the movement was interrupted.

Jet sputtered awake, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Standing over him was Smellerbee who was shaking his shoulder in what was an attempt to awaken him, but she was recoiled as if avoiding a blow. Then he felt Longshot's grip on his wrist, no doubt Jet had struck out in his sleep and Longshot had grabbed his wrist before it had connected with Smellerbee's jaw.

"S-Sorry," Jet managed to gasp out, "I...just...had a bad dream,"

"It's okay," Smellerbee said as soothingly as she could, (which really wasn't soothing at all, but Jet appreciated the effort) "we just got back from the scouting mission, you told us you wanted the data?"

"Just tell me tomorrow," Jet said rolling onto his pillow, but then he remembered he would have to go back to sleep and that didn't sound very appealing, "Wait, nevermind. You can tell me now," he finished sitting back up.

"Okay forty-two soldiers, two officers, both majors, I think, and six kimonorhinos." Smellerbee listed a bit proudly.

"Huh," Jet pondered, "That's too many for us to take on especially if they have a chain of command, and kimonorhinos. I," he paused and gulped, "I don't think there's anything we can do for that town."

Smellerbee looked as if he had personally violated her.

"How can you say that? That's what we fight for!"

"I'm aware, Bee. But they've got the numbers and skill on us and it's more important that we're safe. I'm sure lots of convoys will come through to resupply the troops in the town and I didn't say we wouldn't attack them." Jet smiled a bit at the end. Talking strategy with Smellerbee helped take his mind of off his nightmares, I gave him something to do.

Smellerbee sighed, defeated. She hated being wrong. "You're right, I guess, but that doesn't mean we should just give up on the townspeople. Now they'll be oppressed, and those kids will be will orphaned like us."

"There's nothing we can do about it, Bee," Jet said again. Smellerbee sighed again.

"Well, g'night. I'm pooped," Smellerbee said before making her way out of Jet's tent, followed silently by Longshot. And with their leaving Jet was suddenly anxious; thoughts of fleeing dreams made him nervous to lay his head on his pillow and drift off. So, instead he worked his way down the tree, a midnight jog never did any harm.

The next morning all of the kids wanted to now Jet's plan of action, he'd said the night before that he hadn't planned to attack, but all the kids assumed he'd do something.

"Soon enough, those filthy Fire Nation scum will reach Gaipagn." Jet told his eager Freedom Fighters, "For now we will wait, and as supplies and reinforcements trickle in we will attack blocking off their hopes of becoming resupplied,"

Jet paused expecting to hear cries of approval or agreement, but all he heard were whispered mutters of confusion.

"But Jet!" Some of the freedom fighters cried, "then the townspeople will be subjected to the Fire Nation's evil!"

"Yeah, we gotta do somethin' now!" Bark cried. "Nothing has ever stopped you before!"

Jet sighed, he wasn't expecting to be met by such resistance, usually the kids listened to whatever he told them to do.

"Just hear me out guys, we'll be better off waiting this one out, okay?" Jet continued. Reluctant mumbles came forward and Jet nodded in satisfaction, "Okay guys, scatter," The children ran off on command, they all hated being kept cooped up.

Jet was the last to leave he and went to spend the rest of his day taking inventory on their food supply and maybe head down to the river. He returned in time for supper at dusk; he was early, as usual, and he waited after getting his plate for the rest of the Freedom Fighters before starting his meal. Pipsqueak and Smellerbee had no such restraints and had dug into their meals with gusto. Soon enough some of their members trickled in, but by the time the sun had sunk beneath the horizon only half of their members are present. Longshot had a nervous set in his face and Smellerbee kept impatiently tapping the table with her knife hilt.

"Where is everyone?" Sneers finally voiced. No one in the freedom fighters would miss a meal, they all had went hungry too often to not make the most of every morsel. Upon Sneers question Pansy who sat near the end of the table burst into tears. Pipsqueak was up in a second, he sat next to her and stroked her hair whispering quiet, kind words. Jet approached the girl after the her desperate sobs were reduced to sniffles. But when she saw Jet approaching more tears appeared in her eyes and threatened to fall.

'Hey, hey, shhhh," Jet said crouching down to her level so he could look her directly in the eye. "You want to tell me what's wrong?" Pansy kept wiping her eyes and took shuttering deep breaths.

"B-Bark wanted to do something-g to the Fire Nation, even if you told him not to. S-so last night," she took another heaving sob, "He gathered some of the others and planned a raid. B-but I didn't go cause I was scared. A-and they haven't come back!" Pansy broke into full blown sobbing once more. Pipsqueak went back to stroking her hair. Jet turned around to look at the people present. About twelve of them were at dinner, which meant that at least ten had participated in the suicide mission. He sucked in a breath.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Jet demanded with barely concealed anger. Tiger raised his hand looking like he might break down into tears like Pansy. Jet stomped over to Tiger,

"Where was the raid? When did they go out?"

"They were goin' to cut them off right before the town, in the last clearing, the one with the bad mushrooms! They l-left at high sun!"

"Why didn't you tell me! They could be dead because of this!" Jet screamed. He felt like rage was crawling out of his skeleton, wrapping around his bones and crushing them until they cracked.

"They told me not to! I was s-so scared! I'm sorry! I'm so so so so sorry, Jet!" Tiger joined Pansy in her blubbering. Jet clenched his hands into fists, and stood up.

"Everyone go to bed, we'll talk in the morning. Pipsqueak look over things here for now. Sneers, Smellerbee, and 'Shot come with me we're going to go look for our kids."

Everyone left all their dishes on the table, not concerned with any animals that they might attract. It seemed everyone was in near tears or nervously murmuring about their missing friends and comrades.

"-could be dead-,"

"-Haven't come back-,"

"-scary-,"

"-but Jet said-,"

Jet shook his head, trying in vain to clear his thoughts. An impossible task, for thoughts kept swimming in his head, and it felt that a hand had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart and churned his stomach, he'd never felt so, so _betrayed_.

"Let's go," Jet said, not looking at the three people he trusted most.

He took off running the moment his feet touched the forest floor, it was half a league to the clearing Tiger had specified. But he needed to run, to feel leaves crunching beneath his feet and wind rushing around him, he needed the burn in his muscles to distract him. He let his feet guide him, memory not valuable when he was so angry, and worried, and betrayed, and so damn _emotional_. He didn't stop running, his lungs begged him to stop, his muscles cried for relief, but he kept sprinting. A few times he heard Smellerbee and Sneers shout his name but he was too preoccupied he had to get there _now_. All too soon he smelt the smoke. He stumbled into the clearing his lungs gulping in mouthfuls of air.

The bark of most of the trees he was facing was dark, charred and any of the beauty of the deep brown of the trees was stripped away. He coughed, the air he was breathing felt so sour and now he wished he was still running, no air would be preferable to breathing this poisoned substance. Suddenly he was overcome with terror and had to force himself to not look down, to stare at the night sky and the deep violet the red leaves looked like at night.

He heard the others stumble into the clearing, felt Sneers brush against his shoulder and nearly push him to the ground.

"Oh God," he heard Smellerbee whisper, "No. Those bastards! Jet what are we going to do?" She asked desperately. He moved his gaze down slowly he felt like he was drowning like the air was slowly being sucked from his body. When he was looking level in front of him at burned tree bark he took another breath. Tears were falling down his face, he didn't care, he knew what he was about to see.

Fifteen bodies.

Jet wanted to throw up.

He saw his kids immediately some of them were killed by swords or pikes bloody slashes or holes. Others were less fortunate blackened bodies, burnt to ash. There were other bodies too, bigger, older men wearing the ugly read and black uniforms. Jet went up to the closest one a man probably in his early thirties with a bizarre style of facial hair and Jet kicked him in the face, once, twice, until he couldn't count anymore and the man's horrendous beard was unrecognizable.

He was pulled back.

"Jet! Jet!" only then could he hear Smellerbee's urgent cries. Her arms were wrapped around his stomach jerking him away from the Fire soldier's disfigured face. "Calm down! Everything is going to be fine." She tried to console him, but Smellerbee had always been bad at that.

"SHUT UP!" Jet screeched. He took the piece of straw from his mouth and threw it at her. It went forward about half the length of his forearm before fluttering uselessly to the ground like a feather. It landed in dried blood and Jet was running again. Smellerbee yelled at his back but Longshot held her back and Jet didn't listen.

When he returned to the hideout it was past dawn and he'd been sparing all night; practicing his fighting skills, punching trees, swinging his swords at bushes, and climbing trees that seemed impossible to get into. He worked himself to exhaustion so that when he slept he wouldn't dream.

Sneers woke him when it was near dusk.

"We're gonna go bury everybody. Get up, you're coming,"

Jet got up compliantly, and all he could think was that seeing Sneers when he was sad and not annoyed and sneering at everyone was making him uncomfortable.

The grave site was in a clearing near the Freedom Fighter hideout, not the one they had been killed in, that would just be a cruel joke, but the Fire Nation bodies stayed, they could just rot.

The others must have been up for longer than Jet, ten graves had been dug they must have worked everyone for the remainder of the night and all day. Smellerbee and Sneers seemed to be sleeping on their feet, Longshot was as placid as ever but even he had bags under his eyes. Smellerbee seemed to perk up upon seeing Jet, letting go of the death grip she had on Longshot's arm and approaching him slowly.

"Hey, Jet. Would you say something?" She asked quietly. Jet nodded for a moment pondering his words.

"Brothers, sisters, Freedom Fighters. We face tragedy today, one we have all experienced before. Those who have been rejoined with the earth today were are friends and comrades, our blood brothers. They passed in the most valiant way possible in the most loyal act to themselves, their country, and to us." Jet finished, he was crying again. He wasn't alone, most of the Freedom Fighters had tears streaming down their faces, but Pansy and Tiger remained silent, no sobs raked through the forest, just trickles of tears.

"Rest in peace," rang an unfamiliar voice, and it was all that had to be said.

A/N: Please tell me what you think! Will update next Saturday or Sunday


	2. Then

Jet didn't plan any raids for three months; only when their supplies began to run dangerously low did he even stop to consider it. No one questioned his judgement on the matter.

It was one of the simpler raids, not too many enemies, lots of supplies, and the basic plan; hide in the trees until you get an opening, than attack. Jet had done it many times, and would do it again in the future. There were only six of them on this mission and Jet believed they could handle the fighting. This wasn't like the last raid.

Jet hadn't realized how much he had missed fighting until he was swinging his swords. He always felt at his best while he was fighting the Fire Nation, he felt powerful and convinced that this group of scum stood no chance.

Jet hadn't realized that he'd killed at least three of them until the adrenaline had subsided. Pipsqueak and Longshot were busy inspecting the cargo, and Jet was expecting to get a berating from Smellerbee any moment now, but none came.

The Fire Nation were monsters, they would get what was coming to them, it seemed the others finally realized that.

Seasons began to blend together, raids became more frequent, Firebenders fell more often and casualties on the Freedom Fighter's side were no longer rare. He killed soldiers now, no sting of remorse left behind, and soon the others followed.

Jet didn't know why but it never felt like enough, he could never get all of the soldiers. They kept flowing into the valley, and in his mind he knew that he couldn't rid the world of the Fire Nation; he was one kid leading a bunch of other kids against the most powerful army the world had ever seen. The impossibility of his task was reminded every time he killed a Fire Nation soldier and it made him angry.

He didn't consider that he was becoming reckless. He thought he was about thirteen, counting the years before his home was destroyed wasn't a habit he made, but as time passed and when the warming and chilling of the forest only affected their food stores, Jet stopped counting. He was only a child of the forest. This is what he reminded himself when he couldn't remember the strong hand of this father on this back or the sweet lilting of his mother's voice. He was a child of the forest now and his other family didn't matter anymore. He was a Freedom Fighter now, and forever.

It was spring, and Jet was taking inventory of their food stores with Pipsqueak when he found a rabid animal stuffing it's face in a crate of flour, as if it was edible. It was only as he pulled it out of their supplies by the scruff at it's neck that Jet realized it was really a small person. He was small, young, and butt naked. Flour covered nearly his entire body and he was shaking it out of his hair and trying to struggle out of Jet's grasp.

"Hey now, hey!" Jet yelled at the boy, not yielding his grip at all. "Do you understand me?" he asked in a calmer voice as the boy stilled.

"Go! Let GO!" He yelled in answer, struggling once more. Suddenly he was able to wriggle out of Jet's grip, only to run into the trap of Pipsqueak's hands.

"Hey," Pipsqueak said cordially, in a manner that seemed the complete opposite of his appearance. "You're all right now. We're gonna take real good care of you and you're gonna be able to eat as much as you want."

The child immediately stopped squirming and even smiled at the promise of food and clapped his hands easily.

Jet took some of the honey seed buns that would probably go bad soon and handed them to the little boy who shoved the whole thing into his mouth in one bite and repeated the procedure for the second and third bun.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Pipsqueak said to the boy whose mouth was still too full of food to answer. They walked to the river bank and splashed the little boy in water, too afraid to submerge him completely in case he couldn't swim.

After his bath, the boy ran ahead, not bothered by the winter chilled water that dripped down his body. The boy was mystified by the treehouse, wide-eyed, he ran across the rope bridges and wooden platforms. Pipsqueak had to scoop him up before the boy went careening of the edge.

"Let's get him some clothes," Jet suggested, "then we can get Smellerbee to cut his hair,"

They approached the storage shed that held their weapons and pillaged clothing. It was a bit of a struggle to find clothes that even remotely fit the boy's small frame. Eventually they just put him into the smallest clothes they could find and rolled up the legs of the trousers. Pipsqueak picked the newly-clothed boy as they exited the little storage unit.

Jet and Pipsqueak found Smellerbee on one of the bridges with Longshot, feet hanging between the spaces in the rope lining. Longshot was whittling sticks as Smellerbee sported a one-sided conversation.

"...I just think he complains too much, ya know? Like he wanted to be part of the group right? He doesn't have to be such a dumbass about everything all the time! Sneers fights with Jet about _everything_ and all it does is make Jet angr-Oh! Hey Jet! Hey Pipsqueak! Who's the little person?" Smellerbee said as she was alerted to her friends' presence. Jet shot her a look at her obvious gossiping. But Smellerbee refused to meet his eyes.

"We found him doused in flour in the food storage unit had to go clean him up, we were wondering if you'd cut his hair?" Pipsqueak explained.

"Yeah, sure,"Smellerbee agreed, "follow me, I gotta go get my knives," All four of them followed Smellerbee back to her hut and where she kept her weapons. Smellerbee's hair grew the fastest out of everyone Jet had ever met and she was the only one skilled enough in using small knives to cut hair without it ending in a bloody mess.

They all ducked into Smellerbee's sleeping place, and Pipsqueak banged his head against the doorway and had to keep his head perpetually bowed. Smellerbee got our a small knife that looked like it may have been used to pear vegetables from a round container. Pipsqueak urged the boy to sit in front of Smellerbee who then asked Jet, "How short should I cut it? Like the length of mine?"

"Probably as short as you can, in case he has bugs in his hair," Jet replied.

"'Kay," Smellerbee said and set to work sawing at the young boy's long locks. He didn't have a lot of hair, it was very thin, so the process was quick and soon a small pile of hair sat on the floor. "All done!" Smellerbee said as she moved to replace her knife. The boy followed her movement and as she put the knife in the bowl and whipped her hands on her pants the boy sprung on the container of knives, spilling them across the floor.

"Hey!" Smellerbee yelped, getting on her hands and knees to collect all the sharp weapons. The boy, ignoring Smellerbee, put the bowl on his head, allowing Jet to realize that it was actually a small helmet that probably wouldn't fit on the head of a bigger person.

"I'm The Duke of Solian!" The boy cried as he strutted back and forth and jumped up and down. He was met with silence and odd looks. Jet vaguely heard Smellerbee mutter something to Longshot about the location of Solian, but Jet cleared his throat and said, "Okay, The Duke, why don't we all head out to dinner?"

He was running out the door again at the mention of food. Pipsqueak let out a booming laugh and grabbed The Duke before he could sprint off too far.

"Food's the other way!" Pipsqueak thundered, lifting The Duke high to sit on his shoulders. Letting out a gasp of amazement,The Duke bounced up and down on Pipsqueak's shoulders, excited by the new perspective.

They reached the dining platform where Sneers was already directing the kids where to place the mashed potatoes and roasted chipmunksquirrel and distributing their confiscated wine. Upon smelling the food, The Duke awkwardly scrambled down Pipsqueak's body and ran to the platter of cooked meat. He sat down, right in the middle of the table two fists of meat in hand. Sneers made a disgruntled noise and opened his mouth to no doubt rant about there not being enough food going around if this new scoundrel ate it all, and speaking of which who was the new kid?but Jet interjected before Sneers could get a word in,

"This here's The Duke and he hasn't eaten in awhile so leave him be. We can all manage without a complete meal for today," Jet's announcement was met with groans as The Duke continued to eat obliviously.

Jet was regretting his words about letting the kid eat whatever he wanted when, just as everyone else finished eating, The Duke began violently throwing up everything he had just eaten onto the table surrounding him. Yelps of disgust chorused across the table as the children inched away from the table.

Pipsqueak, the sympathetic sap that he was, gently rubbed the poor boy's back and led him down to the forest floor to wash out the yuckiness from his headgear.

The moment the two were out of earshot Smellerbee burst into a fit of snickers, "Well I never want that thing back," Longshot gave her a degrading look, but she shook him off, "Just sayin', kid probably shouldn't have ate so much," Jet nodded in agreement as Longshot shook his head in disdain.

Jet turned to Sneers, "Why don't you start cleaning this up?" Sneers made angry grumbling noises but followed his orders without complaint. Jet returned his attention to The Duke, "He's a good kid," Jet mused, "I bet he'll be useful,"

He was right of course, The Duke was as energetic as any child, but unlike some of the other younger members who spent their days playing and chasing each other in the forest, The Duke liked to be helpful. He had a good head for numbers, better even than Jet or Sneers (who was quite put out by it) and so he took inventory. The winters that they had The Duke their food was so well rationed that nobody died, of hunger, cold or otherwise.

Unlike the rest of them, The Duke had no personal vendetta against the Fire Nation, but as he grew older it wasn't hard for him to see the damage they had caused to his friends. This alone proved to be a reason to stand against the monsters in red.

But maybe it was because he had no personal grudge against the Fire Nation that allowed the Duke to keep such a high moral. Death refused to phase him and his consideration and kindness found a place in every Freedom Fighter's heart. His smile was broad and his laughter known to even draw a grin from Longshot. Even as he grew his innocence never seem provoked and yet he was nowhere near naive and he was wiser than any child of his age had the right to be.

For no reason that could be made clear to anyone The Duke took to Pipsqueak like bees to honey, and was often henceforth often seen riding about on Pipsqueaks shoulders. When asked about it he would say,

"I don' know. But it's pretty from up there an' and I feel like I'm in control when I'm riding on somebody's shoulders,"

And so when he'd dropped down unexpectedly onto the shoulders of a Fire Nation soldier during a raid, a knife in hand to bury into the man's back, Jet had allowed himself a small smile of pride as he slashed his swords against another soldier. (Even if they boy was about six and had come along without forewarning and no training at the risk of his life, Jet liked the show of loyalty, of gutsiness).

The rhythms and routines of the Freedom Fighters were soon hammered into their system, they all worked well together, like clogs in a wheel. They'de usually have a raid about every week except in the winter, when there were less transports. It tended to be the highlight of the week. Most of the other days the daylight hours were spent in preparation, training, or just playing. Because in some distant realm of his mind Jet knows none of them are children, they've seen too much, heard too much, and childhood doesn't stop when you've reached a set number of years, it stops when you grow up; but they still know how to play, it's sort of strange.

They also cook and hunt and gather nuts and berries and sometimes, the red blood and the color of flags are replaced with red berries and the color of the everlasting leaves.

Then the pattern breaks.

Someone dies.

Just as Jet thinks 'Screw the Fire Nation, we can be strong with or without them!' someone dies. Maybe the winter is too cold and their supplies too low, bodies too fragile, too weak. Or they have fevers, convulsions, sickness creeping underneath their skin as they struggle for weeks to just _keep breathing_. Other times his kids just don't wake up the next day. And as painful as it is Jet can deal with those losses. Nature played its course and left the stranglers behind. But sometimes it's quick, the flash of a sword, or a well thrown bomb, and once a decisive bolt of lightning. And other times, it was agonizing. They bled out after the battle taking labored breaths and coughing up blood. Asking Jet to take the pain away. Asking for their parents. Asking to be remembered. Or, they went screaming as they were consumed in flame, nothing anyone could do while they were still in the heat of battle.

It was a blow to the heart everytime, their deaths were unforgivable.

And afterwards there would be no playing, Jet would spend the next day thinking, alone, about the Fire Nation, always about the Fire Nation, and how he was going to give them hell.

He doesn't listen to Smellerbee's awful attempts at consoling him, because she understands feelings as well as The Fire Lord understood mercy. And he didn't listen to Sneers accusations that he was the instigator, he was the one putting his people in harm's way. Instead he shoved Sneers out of his tent and very nearly off the side of the tree.

He's unapproachable.

And yet every time as things begin to look up again, as the sun shines just a little bit brighter, he thinks that maybe this time things will be different and that they will get better.

Before he gets a cruel slap in the face.

Jet's just recovering from a Rolf's death when the Avatar stumbles into a clearing.

What an opportunity.

...

He ruins everything

As they're flying away, and he's stuck to a tree, Jet still isn't sure if he's sorry. Longshot, Smellerbee, and Pipsqueak find him, Smellerbee looking very grumpy and pissed, and they chip away at the ice, which isn't melting despite the mild winter. No one talks the entire time. Even though Jet wants to ask if the others are still looking for him elsewhere or if they've decided that he's not worth any of their time anymore, since if the Avatar thinks it's wrong then it must be.

When they get back to the hideout the sun has already set and Jet is glad that Longshot's sense of direction is so good. Up in the trees it is both quiet and loud like when there's a high pitched buzzing in his ear and his mind just can't seem to process it.

Sneers is the only one that confronts him saying that Jet's leadership has mislead them in the worst possible way and that he'd seen this coming ages ago and that the Freedom Fighters are better off without him.

Pipsqueak is breathing heavily, he can't deal with confrontation. Jet doesn't see the Duke anywhere, but he needs the boy's smile. Craves it, like sugar, like happiness. Pipsqueak is crying and he runs instead of standing strong. Smellerbee's eyes flash to him and her hands shake. Longshot doesn't look at anyone. But neither of them move away from his side.

Jet doesn't say anything and he thinks he's somewhere between punching Sneers and crying, even though he hasn't cried in years. He's in a state of shock so he clenches his fists by his side and tries to remember to breathe. Smellerbee realigns herself, unclenching her fists she holds nothing back,

"You traitorous asshole!" she hollered at Sneers' face. "After everything Jet's done for you! For all of us! Who are you to tell him that he's made a mistake! The Freedom Fighters are nothing without Jet! Nothing! What are you gonna do now! Why don't you rot in hell you scumb-,"

"Smellerbee,"

Longshot says her name quietly and when the three syllables escape his mouth everything freezes.

They turn to look at him; Smellerbee has tears running down her face that are trying to wash away her angry expression. Red paint runs down her skin.

She hiccups and everything starts again.

A/N: A day later than I said because I forgot I had to go to a wedding over the weekend

final update will be during the next two weeks


End file.
